On A Winters Evening
by AshHorney69
Summary: John comes home to find Sherlock in an odd mood. John doesn't realise Sherlock how much Sherlock likes him. Until later.


The house of 221B Baker Street was silent. The sound of tooting from the passing London traffic and the heavy sheets of rain was all that could be heard. The appointed living room was dark and gloomy with no other light other than the little space under the door that brought in a cold, sharp breeze with it. In the corner of the room in a beautiful velvet, red armchair was a sleeping Sherlock. His bony, large hand was glued to his perfect bone structure, supporting his heavy head. Whilst his other hand rested neatly on his lap. He looked so peaceful, so..normal. Then the silence was broken. There was a loud knocking at the door, in an odd pattern. Sherlock's eye lids snapped open. He stayed sitting there for a moment. His darting, blue eyes scanned the room. Then the door was knocked again 'Sherlock! Open the door!' Sherlock, heaved his sleepy body off the armchair and walked to the door in a sluggish manner. He opened the door, being blinded by the vicious, bright light attacking him. John stood at the door in front of him 'Are you just going to stand there? I'm freezing!' he scowled. John immediately walked over the the log burner and started up a flame. He took off his mitts and placed his hands over the warming, dancing flame. Sherlock stood there, watching his friend in admiration. John noticed how dark the room was and so he rushed over to the curtains and yanked them open. Showing a white, bright blanket over the streets of London. John took off his thick coat and woolly hat and placed them on the coat hanger and threw himself onto the armchair. Sherlock grunted. And carried on watching his companion. 'I gather you've not done much today then?' John queried. Again, Sherlock grunted. John rolled his eyes. 'Well I'm not sure about you but I'm certainly hungry. Do you want anything, Sherlock?' John asked. Sherlock said nothing but shook his head. So John made two cups of Earl Grey and put them on the round coffee table. John sat down on his chair and gestured to his friend to take a seat. Sherlock walked over to his seat and gingerly sat down. 'What's the matter, Sherlock?' John questioned. 'Nothing' Sherlock responded. 'It's just the weather. It makes me feel tired' he added. The dark sky was quickly approaching, the pin-head sized stars flickered and sparkled in the clear dark sky and the moon floated comfortably high in the sky. It was such a spectacular view. John and Sherlock gazed up at the navy sky, both deep in thought. John stood up and broke the deafening silence. He took both mugs and carefully placed them in the sink and sighed 'I'm off to bed now, Sherlock. You should get going yourself soon.' Sherlock nodded. 'Goodnight' John whispered, and patted Sherlock on his shoulder and closed his door. Sherlock's sharp, blue eyes stayed fixed to the door of John's bedroom. With his hand, he felt his shoulder where John had patted him, still feeling the impact of John's skin against his. Sherlock abruptly stood up, he walked over slowly and quietly to John's door. He stood there. He could hear John changing into his night clothes. Before he knew it, his cold hand slowly reached out to John's door handle. His heart was racing, he palms became sweaty and clammy. His stomach was somersaulting His had grasped the handle and pushed open the door. John was sat on the end of his bed taking off his socks. 'Are you okay, Sherlock?' Sherlock's face managed a small, neat smile and his blue eyes sparkled. John could tell he was happy. John smiled back. He laughed a little too. For he knew what Sherlock was thinking for a change. Sherlock approached John and perched himself on the end of the springy bed next to John, but not too close. Sherlock's eyes stayed fixed to John's. His eyes were so hard to look at. Usually John would complain when Sherlock starred at him in such manner, for he knew he was studying him, and it made him nervous. But there was something different about his stare this time. John liked it. It made him feel warm. Comforted. And before he realised it, he and Sherlock's hands were intertwined. Sherlock closed his eyes, his lips opened slightly, so John could feel his warm breath touch his face. John moved closer. He began to passionately kiss Sherlock's neck. Sherlock's eyes slowly opened and his pupils rolled up towards his head. John carried on, moving up his neck, to his cheek, and finally to Sherlock's moist lips. The two men unlocked their hands from each other and gently held each others face. Both of their eyes closed. Breathing heavy with excitement. With pleasure. John let go of Sherlock's face. He took hold of Sherlock's coat and eased it off gently. He then took hold of his own shirt, and un-did half of the buttons. Exposing his pectorals. Sherlock took his t-shirt completely off. Exposing his well-toned body. John kissed Sherlock's chest, and slowly worked up to his tender lips. It felt even more sexy than the first time, Sherlock thought. John was sat on Sherlock's lap. He could feel Sherlock's penis beginning to protrude. He transferred his hands to Sherlock's waist and then to his tightly fastened belt buckle. Then he took his hands of Sherlock's belt buckle and looked at Sherlock, his eyes. Dilated. He knew it was safe to carry on. Sherlock lay backwards on the bed and eased off his black trousers himself. His penis bulged beneath his plain, black boxers. At the site of this, John could feel himself arising. The two men embraced once again, hands around each others waist. Sherlock un-did the rest of his 'friends' shirt, and eased it off. John took off his jeans and Sherlock grinned. Both men's hearts were pounding. Through excitement and a million other feelings. John kissed Sherlock's thigh, hungrily, passionately. And then lifted his friends boxers over his hard-on and threw them to the top of the bed. John took hold of his shaft, and slowly brought his hand up, and then back down, speeding up every minute or so. Sherlock groaned out in pleasure 'faster' he gasped. John slowed down, teasing him a little. To Sherlock's suprise, John's head was in Sherlock's lap. Resting it on his knees. He moved his head closer and closer to Sherlock's penis. And Sherlock groaned out even louder than previously as John placed his wet, warm mouth over his shaft and moved his head up and down. Sherlock cried out again, and grabbed Johns head, guiding him. 'Fuck me!' Sherlock groaned 'Please! Fuck me!' John ordered Sherlock to kneel down and bend over on the bed. 'I'm going to fuck til you're too tired to carry on' John whispered. John oiled his boner and eased himself inside Sherlock. Sherlock cried out in pleasure. John groaned himself. Each penetration flooded both of the gents boy with immense pleasure. 'You're so good' Sherlock panted. 'No. I'm so bad.' John said. He grabbed Sherlock's waist, giving him stability to push himself further inside Sherlock, harder. 'Ughhhh' groaned John. 'I'm ready!' John pulled himself out of Sherlock and Sherlock took hold of his companions hard on and eased his hand up and down. 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' John cried out. 'Bend over!' John demanded. He placed his penis on Sherlock's ass and he blew his load. Then it was over. Both men crawled into bed, Sherlock spooned John. And they fell fast asleep in each others arms.


End file.
